


Ghosts

by DraculaLeftMeAtTheBar



Category: Eddsworld
Genre: Depression, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 00:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8424133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraculaLeftMeAtTheBar/pseuds/DraculaLeftMeAtTheBar
Summary: "I LOVE YOU"





	1. Don't Be Nervous...

He ran away like a coward after the ambulance carried Jon away. They put him on the stretcher and drove as fast as they could through the smoke and fire, leaving Eduardo’s arms cold and Mark hyperventilating on a side walk. Eduardo stood up and ran. He just ran and didn’t look back. 

He feels bad about leaving Mark by himself like that: A sobbing mess on that cracked cement. But he had to get away. He left it all behind, Mark, their destroyed home, that town, and took a train to his grandmother’s cabin. He has been here ever since. For two years. He wonders how Mark has been coping with Jon’s death. Hopefully much better than Eduardo has.

He wants to pick up the phone and give his friend a call badly but his guilt stops him. The cabin is quiet and cold. He only goes out when he needs to get groceries from the town but the rest of the time he remains in isolation.

In mourning.

In grief.

For two years.

He prays that Mark will forgive him one day. He was never good at comforting people. He can’t even comfort himself. He barely eats and spends most of his time in bed crying and praying to god for forgiveness. Hoping that the message will be passed to Jon. There are no neighbors to check on him. No Edd to motivate him to do something. It is miles from an underpopulated town and as far as he knows, his family is the only one who has property here. This little cabin is just as lonely as the person who inhabits it.

Tonight he is lying in bed, watching a spider crawl along the ceiling. He won’t kill it. He can’t stand anymore death. It’s just trying to look for a warm place to stay. It is winter again. Jon’s favorite season. The cabin creaks and the power goes out often. A draft flows through at times despite all the windows being shut. Sometimes it sounds like footsteps are going down the hall when he attempts to sleep at night.

There is no TV. He occupies his time staring at walls and gathering wood for the fire place that his grandmother brags was built with her own hands. He hasn’t called his grandmother in a while either. He hasn’t had a real conversations since he begged Jon to say something.

A loud bang echoes through the cabin as something slams against the floor of the hallway. He gets up and checks to see his shampoo bottle spilling its contents on the hallway floor. The bathroom door is wide open and the faucet is running on full blast. 

He is the only one in this cabin.

Surrounded by miles of forestation and snow.

Not even the grocer, whom he politely greets on his trips to town, knows where he lives.

~

The sound of things falling onto the floor, in various parts of the cabin, keep waking him up in the middle of the night. He’ll quickly throw on his robe and step into the cold hallway. He’ll find picture frames of family moments experienced a long time ago, thrown far away from the wall where they originally hung. Containers and bottles will be open and spilt across the floor in patterns. The faucets will be on and on full blast. The worst that has happened is when a picture of himself actually hit his head, waking him instantly. The picture was one that sat on a little table in the living room.

He decides to lock his bedroom door and ignore the sounds. It has to be all in his head. A side effect of depression. The result of a mind going unstimulated for so long; Without conversations or the distraction of media to entertain it.

It has to be. 

He never believed the ghost stories his grandmother used to tell him and he’ll be damned if he starts believing them now. It seems that locking the door and ignoring the noises work. Everything is calm again and he can at least to attempt to sleep. The memory of Jon dying play over and over again in his nightmares.

The peace goes on for a while. 

However, an incident happens on one night that sends a chill down Eduardo’s spine.

He lays on his side that night, curled in on himself and reminiscing on the times that Jon used to sneak into his room to cuddle him. He took that boy for granted. Sometimes he would fiercely insist that he hated the other’s presence in the late hours. But if Jon went to Mark, Eduardo would throw a fit. Why couldn’t he just let himself be happy. Why did he push them both away like that and yet at the same time cling to them tightly. He feels like he alienated them.

The door handle makes a creaking noise.

Eduardo lifts the covers a bit to look over at the door that faces the end of his bed. The handle moves slowly at first, as if testing the waters. Checking to see if it’s really locked. His heart stops. It has to be all in his head. All the caffeine. All the depression and anxiety. The handle slowly returns to position before repeating the action. He watches with his eyes wide open. A cold sweat takes over.

After the third turn, the handle remains still.

He stays up all night watching the brass and even when daylight breaks he refuses to sleep.

~

Objects are moving again but now it happens in broad daylight. The second he takes his eyes off of something is when it happens. Today, he finally washes the dishes after weeks of neglecting the task. He used to yell at Jon for not doing them when he was asked to. He used to yell at his forgetful friend for a lot of stupid things like that. He stacks the plates neatly, like Mark used to do, in the cabinet before closing it and moving on to the next task of bathing: Another chore he’s neglected to do for a while. It’s been hard taking care of himself.

As he turns to leave the kitchen, he hears a rattle and and the cabinet hinges squeak as the little door flings open. He turns back as fast as he can and all the plates tip out of the cabinet. They shatter into pieces across the floor, one by one, and clatter loud enough to make Eduardo flinch each time.

A total of 7 plates are destroyed before it ends.

The silence of the aftermath is welcomed but does little to ease Eduardo’s nerves.

He stares at the mess before slowly going to retrieve the broom and pan.

It has to be all in his head.

~

It is not in his head.

This can’t be in his head.

He tries to sleep again. He won’t look at the door handle even when the turning starts to become violent and frequent. Soon, something is trying to get into his room. Something is banging against the wood and hitting the door with all its might. Eduardo is much too frozen in fear to do anything but watch as the door trembles with each collision. It’s almost being ripped off its hinges by the sheer force of whatever is trying to bust it open.

He yells, “Stop that!”

And it does so.

 

 

Every thing is quiet now.

He curls back into bed and sings a gospel to himself. The one that Jon used to sing to himself.

“I used to go to church a lot,” is what Jon would tell him.

~

He calls his grandmother.

“How have you been?” She asks. 

“Abuelita, did anyone die in this cabin?”

She remains silent and he lets out a frustrated sigh as he responds the way she wants him to, “I’m fine. How are you?” He can feel her smile that warm smile that she would give him as a child even when he didn’t get the best score in the class or win 1st place. He realizes just how much he misses her after all this time.

“I’m fine. When are you coming to visit?”

His brain is at a stand still. He’s forgotten the social etiquette of speaking. He used to be able to talk to his grandmother for hours but now he wants nothing more than to end this conversation. “I don’t know yet…” he pauses “…I’ve been feeling under the weather as of lately.” His grandmother ‘tsks' and he rolls his eyes. “You wouldn’t be so sad if you at least called me like you used to,” she chides.

“I’m in the cabin,” he cuts in before she can continue.

“Oh! I haven’t been there in years! How’s the old girl doing?” she waits patiently for his response. He doesn’t know how to answer though. He feels like he shouldn’t tell her about the strange things that have been going on. “It’s fine,” he opts for a lie, “a little chilly but she’s holding up pretty well.”

“That’s good to hear,” she gives a little hum and Eduardo decides to ask again, “Abuelita, has anyone died in this cabin?”

“Not that I know of,” she sounds genuine and that bothers Eduardo. “What do you mean ‘not that you know of?’ who else has been here?” He doesn’t mean to be snippy but after a week of no sleep he can’t help it. His grandmother doesn’t mind though and responds, “I’m not sure. I didn’t even know you were there.Your papa and brother have a key too.” He remembers his brother Ernesto fondly but his father wasn’t the nicest man in the world.

His grandmother lets out a hum of contemplation. Always humming, this woman. He hasn’t spoken to his brother since the other moved out. He hasn’t liked his father since the day he exited the womb. 

“Por qué?” She asks.

Should he tell her about the noises? The objects moving? The thing that tries to get into his room at night?

“It’s nothing,” he lies.

You could always tell when Jon was lying by the amount of times he would unconsciously tug his ear. Eduardo wonders what he does when he’s trying to lie. Could Jon tell? When he lied about hating him?

~

He hears whispering as he sits on the couch and stares into the nothingness. He hears it when he tries to lie in bed for as long as he can in the morning. He hears it when his stomach growls after neglecting to eat for the day. He hears it while staring at the blank canvas before him in the guest bedroom he’s designated as his study. He’s taken a liking to painting. As much as he thought comic books were his passion, there is a greater sense of pleasure he feels in using acrylic or oil. After two years, he likes to think he’s getting better but in the end it feels like it’s just for him and him alone. There is no internet to update his art portfolio and no Edd nearby to compete with.

What is Edd doing right now? Is he okay?

Eduardo feels guilty for wishing that it was actually Tom instead of Jon who was the one lying on the ground when the smoke cleared that day. He feels absolutely horrible.

The whispering starts back up and he can barely make out what it is. What is it trying to tell him? He notices that the whispering stops whenever he gets up to do something productive. When the whispering starts in the morning, it will stop when he gets up. It stops when he showers and does the dishes. It stops when that brush touches the canvas and when he does laundry and eat. He almost thinks the thing is trying to encourage productivity.

Wouldn’t that be silly.

~

He goes through his grandmother’s basement on a day where he has the sudden urge to clean something. Among the dust covered boxes and racks of musty fur coats, he finds a ouija board. There is no planchette, however. He puts it to lean against a little door that is probably an access to the plumbing system and tries to tidy the basement as much as he can. Unfortunately, there is no amount of motivation that could possibly help him go through with it. His grandmother must have had a hoarding issue because nothing in the basement is worth organizing. The kayaks have holes and the boxes are full of badly taken photographs.

Something shuffles behind him.

As he turns a box tips overs and a photo album falls out. He picks up and squeezes the leathery cover momentarily before opening it. It’s full of pictures of him and his brother as a child. Ernesto was his older brother. He hasn’t seen him in years. Jon used to tell him that he should call his sibling.

“Family is important,” he used to say despite that fact that Jon’s own family disowned him for being gay….

Maybe Jon was talking about Eduardo and Mark. Maybe they were what Jon meant by family. Maybe that’s why Jon stuck around despite all the years of abuse.

Eduardo hugs the book to his chest and tells himself the tears are from all the dust in his eyes.

~

The place is starting to feel…better. The whispering has not ceased but it doesn’t bother him as much anymore. It almost feels like it’s try to help him. It reminds him to shower and eat and sometimes it starts when he feels like calling his grandmother and stops when he does so. He’s painting a landscape in the guest bedroom again, the windows are finally clean enough for him to see the forest without opening it.

He hears a rattling down the hall. As is something is hitting against the inside of a ceramic bowl. A high pitched clinking in something hollow.

He ignores it but it start to become more erratic. He keeps ignoring it until the whispering starts back up. It grows louder and louder until Eduardo drops his paint brush and covers his ears.

“ALRIGHT ALREADY!” he screams and stands up to storm down the hall. His eyes frantically search the living room for whatever is making the rattling. When they land on a little porcelain container on the sofa table is when everything silences.

The whispering and the rattling cease and Eduardo lifts the lid to find a planchette.

He goes back into the basement to see the ouija board sitting neatly on a stack of boxes. He distinctly remembers shoving it to the side. The wood of the planchette and board match and he doesn’t know why but he sets them both on the coffee table.

He sits on the sofa and merely stares at the board in contemplation.

He doesn’t believe in ghosts. He believes in demons and god and aliens but not ghosts. He believes in curses and Santeria and the chupacabra (he has a scar from being attacked by one when he was 9 on his left leg) but not ghosts. His grandmother used to say that their grandfather was always watching over them but he would roll his eyes every time.

However, he’s seen enough horror films.

He brushes off the eerie feeling and goes to make himself some coffee. As the kettle is boiling he hears some whispering coming from the living room. “Nope,” he says to the unknown source of it, “Not messing with that.”

The sound of wood scratching against wood starts up.

He rolls his eyes, “I’d let it go if I were you.”

‘It’s all in your mind’ he tells himself.

The kettle feels like it’s taking too long and he nervously taps his fingernails against the kitchen table. The whispering does not get louder but it feels like it’s growing more insistent. He once watched a horror movie about a ouija board that frightened Jon so much that he slept in Eduardo’s bed for 3 nights.

He lets out a sigh, “fine” and gets up to go and at least examine the board. It sits patiently on the little table. He picks up the planchette and turns the cold wood over in his hand. The whispering still hasn’t stopped. It is not until he sits on the floor and places the planchette in the proper position that it quiets again.

Is there something you’re supposed to say? A ritual or spell? Shouldn’t one be in the dark for this? He asks aloud, “Is anyone here?”

He waits a few seconds but nothing happens.

He asks again, “Is there a spirit in this cabin?”

He feels stupid. He’s only ever seen this done in the movies, and even then, they were apparently inaccurate. Mark used to point out all the flaws in every horror movie because his favorite kind of literature was in the occult section of the bookstore. Mark was actually really smart.

He finds himself missing the guy.

Just as much as he misses Jon.

Jon would have looked at this board and screamed. He would have begged Eduardo to burn it and then never sleep in his own bed again.

The planchette moves in his hands and he tries to remain calm when it moves over the faded printed words, “Yes.”

He stares at the word.

He feels like he wants to laugh but its trapped in his throat.

Mark would say that the movement was usually coincidental. 

All in the mind.

Eduardo gulps audibly before asking, “Have I gone off my rocker?”

The planchette shifts under his fingers and he follows it to the “no” on the opposite side.

The kettle screams and he rips his hands away and rushes to shut it off. His entire body is shaking as he pours the boiling water into the mug. “Maybe it’s all the caffeine?” he asks himself as he adds 4 teaspoons of instant coffee. With his drink in hand, he slowly walks out of the kitchen. He peeks his head out first and looks at the board. It’s still on the “no.”

On his way to the coach, he nearly trips over the rug. He doesn’t fall but the contents of the mug jump out and burn his hand. He grits his teeth and bears through the pain. He hears the planchette scrape across the wood. When he looks down, it’s over the “O.” He sets the mug down and wipes his hand on his shirt. He cautiously sits back down and hovers his fingers over the little piece of wood. Should he keep going? Isn’t this a bad idea?

The second his fingers touch the planchette, it moves to the “K” and then the “A” and then the “Y.”

OKAY

“Okay?” He says out loud, “What does that mean?” It takes him a second and his eyes travel to the red mark that’s blooming on his hand. “You asking me if I’m okay?”

The planchette moves to the “yes.”

“Uhm…” He doesn’t know how to respond. He should be running out the cabin and getting as far from this board as possible. Instead, he finds himself just merely…surprised. Maybe that’s what having no real communication with other living people will do to you after two years.

“Yeah,” he says out loud, “I’ve dealt with worse.”

The planchette moves again to the “I” before pausing and then to the “K…N…O…” and stopping at the “W.”

I KNOW

Eduardo doesn’t want to push this any further.

~  
When it wants to tell him something, he’ll hear the incoherent whispering. He’ll go the board and ask, “What is it now?” Today, it interrupts him in the middle of another landscape.

EAT

“I will, I’m just not hungry yet. I’ll eat when I’m done.”

PLEASE

“Fine!”

He makes himself a sandwich before sitting back in the living room to fiddle with the board. He takes a bite before placing his fingers on the planchette, “Have you got a name?”

It says nothing.

“How long have you been here?”

A WHILE

“Ah…” he nods his head. He takes another bite before asking with his mouthful, “So are you like trapped or something?”

It doesn’t respond.

“If you don’t answer, then I’m going to assume this is just me loosing my mind.”

SORRY

SHY

“That’s no excuse,” Eduardo bites into the sandwich again. He actually waits until after he swallows before going on, “Y’know, it’s just me here. No need to be bashful.” He smiles and the planchette moves.

ALWAYS BEEN JUST YOU

ALONE

Eduardo narrows his eyes, “What’s that suppose to mean?” The planchette moves again.

YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN

He finishes his sandwich and stands up, “Don’t patronize me.”

He puts the plate in the sink to wash later and goes back to his painting.

~

He has a dream that night.

He wakes up to the light pouring in through the cracks of the window. The room is cold but the bed is warm and someone is lying next to him. He opens his eyes to see Jon sleeping peacefully. Instead of going back to sleep, his vision moves across Jon’s face. He studies every freckle and counts all his long lashes. He moves over the soft curve of Jon’s brows before going down the slope of his nose to rest on the cupid’s bow of Jon’s thin lips. They are curled in a smile which means that Jon is having a nice dream.

Eduardo reaches a hand out to cup Jon’s cheek. The smaller man’s eyes flutter open. One of the many things that Eduardo misses are those warm browns. Jon gives him an affectionate smile. Eduardo feels his heart swell at the sight. He’s in love.

Then he hears the scrape of wood.

Jon gasps and the smile dies in an instant. “Jon, what’s wrong?” Jon sputters before coughing up red. Eduardo shoots up and lifts the sheet to reveal themselves to be lying on grass and a giant hole, gushing out blood, in Jon’s chest. Mark is crying somewhere but he can’t see him. He picks Jon up and screams. He keeps screaming even as he wakes from the nightmare. 

It takes him a second to realize that two years have past and that he’s in his grandmother’s cabin in the middle of nowhere. He curls into a ball and lets out a broken sob. Every thing feels cold. He wants Jon so bad right now. He wants this entire thing to be a dream and Jon to be alive. He wants to tell Jon that he didn’t mean anything he said and that he loves him.

Something crashes in the living room and whispering is calling him.

He gets up and rushes out so fast that he forgets his robe and goes to the ouija board. A picture frame has fallen off the wall but he doesn’t bother going to pick it up. He puts his fingers on the planchette and it moves immediately.

ITS OKAY

IM HERE

The blanket he keeps on the couch is thrown over him and he lets out a sob. He curls in on himself and cries. The whispering becomes low and quiet and he could swear that the gospel he sung to himself was being lowly sung back.

After 10 minutes he finally calms down and uses the corner of the blanket to wipe his tears. The whispering lowers into silence. He shakily touches the planchette and it moves in an almost comforting manner.

IM HERE FOR YOU

I LOVE YOU

He feels the blanket actually be pulled tighter around him and he thinks about how Jon used to try and make him feel better after every failure. After every breakdown. Jon used to hug him in comfort even though he knew Eduardo would eventually push him away.

The planchette moves.

ILL NEVER LEAVE YOU AGAIN

That’s a strange thing for even a living person to say. A sudden thought comes into Eduardo’s mind and it takes a turn into realization. He asks aloud, “Who are you?”

The planchette only spells out

I LOVE YOU

and Eduardo feels his heart skip.

“Jon?”

There is no response.


	2. ...but Be Aware.

Every morning, Eduardo gets up at the same time and the first thing he does is say, “Morning!”

The whispering will pass by gently and it makes him smile. He’s been eating regularly again and showering more often. He paints every day and the cabin has, honestly, never been cleaner. He calls his grandmother often and he’s been getting better at talking for more than 5 minutes.

He finds himself humming that gospel during random times of the day. He’s also been sleeping better. Eduardo should be absolutely terrified that there’s a spirit residing in the same space as him but knowing that it’s Jon…Eduardo has never been better.

The scratching on the ouija board signals when he’s due for a break from painting. He’ll go and make himself and an extra cup of coffee before sitting in front of the board. He places the secondary cup on the opposite side of the table after mixing in cream and a massive amount of sugar, just the way Jon likes it.

Eduardo clears his throat before speaking, “I’m going to the store, you want anything?”

That sound of the planchette scraping against the board has become the most calming melody to Eduardo’s ears.

BANDAGES

“Bandages?” Eduardo cocks an eyebrow, “What would you need those for?”

YOUR HANDS

Eduardo looks down at the little cuts on his hand; the result of carrying around freshly chopped firewood and going through the old documents he finds in the basement. He can’t help but blush. Sometimes these acts of kindness make him feel absolutely guilty because even in death, Jon looks out for Eduardo more than Eduardo ever did for him.

DISENFECTANT

“Okay…” he starts to sniff. He hates crying.

TISSUES

~

That little door in the basement is either access to the plumbing or the heating system. As much as he would like to warm up the house, he doesn’t have enough knowledge on that kind of stuff to mess with it. He’ll call someone to fix it in week maybe. There’s a storm coming.

The phone rings and he picks it up to here the voice of his grandmother ask, “Have you heard from Ernesto lately?”

Eduardo rolls his eyes, “Yes, hello Abuelita. I’m fine and how are you?” He smiles at his own sarcasm but his grandmother’s voice is gravely serious, “Your mama hasn’t been able to get ahold of him. Has he been up there?”

“Not in the two years that I’ve been here,” Eduardo doesn’t know what his brother looks like now. Ernesto has just turned 18 the day he left.

Left Eduardo with their father.

Their father.

“Have you asked papa?” Eduardo asks. “He says he hasn’t seen him either,” his grandmother responds. Eduardo doesn’t even know why he would think that bastard would know where either of his sons were. That man couldn’t even keep track of how many children he’s had or how many women he’s been.

Why would he know.

Why would he care.

“I thought he would be up there already,” his grandmother says. Eduardo grows curious, “was he supposed to come over?” Eduardo grows a little hopeful at the thought of seeing his older brother again.

“I guess maybe he doesn’t like the cabin after all…” His grandmother sounds sad and Eduardo sighs, “I’m sure he’ll turn up soon.”

He says goodnight without questioning what his grandmother was talking about.

~

Eduardo still gets an occasional nightmare but Jon is always ready with the ouija board to assure that Eduardo is not alone

NEVER AGAIN he’ll keep repeating and Eduardo still hasn’t become tired of it. He still has trouble coming to terms with it but he really does love Jon. If he had been a nicer man, a better man than who he was, then maybe Jon would have been more than a room mate. More than a lover. A husband even. It is a silly thought because Eduardo never thought about marriage as a kid. It wasn’t even something that crossed his mind in college. He’ll think about what kind of wedding he’d want but in the end his focus isn’t on the ceremony. What would being married to Jon have been like?

One morning, he puts his fingers on the planchette, “Can you marry a ghost?”

WHY

He blushes and smiles, “just wondering…”

~

He keeps getting calls about Ernesto until finally he recommends, “Have you called the police?”

~

He should be absolutely freaked out when he sees blobs of light zip down the hall but he knows who it is. Sometimes he’ll look down the dark hall and if he squints he can see a figure standing. Eduardo does this one night and as the figure becomes clearer, a blob of light rushes past him and it startles him. The figure disappears, “What the hell was that?”

He hears the planchette move across the board and he goes to it.

DOG

“There’s a dog here?” Eduardo thought his grandmother was a cat person.

There is no response.

~

That little door in the basement actually might be the electrical system. The lights haves started to flicker more and more and when his grandmother calls on the landline, it cuts off sometimes. He saw a few films where ghosts affect the lights in the house. It’s probably just Jon when he follows Eduardo around. He tries not to think about the door too much.

~

He finally gets the nerve, the courage, to call Mark.

But when the phone picks up with a , “Hello?” Eduardo hangs up.

Just hearing the other’s voice is too much. He didn’t go to Jon’s funeral. He still hasn’t made peace with it. After two years, he still can’t talk about it.

~

Things have been getting strange. As the blizzard approaches, the lights have been flickering more frequently. He keeps feeling a draft despite having resealed all the windows and doors. It gets worse when he goes into the basement. He should call someone about that heating system soon. For now he keeps gathering wood and goes into town one last time for supplies.

At the register, the elderly cashier narrows her eyes and studies him before smiling and saying, “You know a guy named Ernie?”

Eduardo raises a brow and shakes his head. She thinks for a bit before snapping her fingers, “I believe his name was something Spanish-like…Ernesto! That was it! You look just like him!”

“Ernesto? I have brother named Ernesto.” Eduardo realizes that of course his brother would go into the same town if he had been in the cabin. “Yeah!” She says, “How’s he been? Haven’t seen him and his dad in a while.”

“Gertrude,” the bag boy interrupts, “Ernie and his father haven’t been in here for more than a year! How could you possibly remember that!”

Gertrude smiles and taps a finger to her temple, “I never forget a face. Especially Ernie. Such a kind man. Taking such good care of his father.”

Eduardo takes his bags and nods to the two before rushing out.

“Oh look at what you’ve done, Gertrude! You’ve gone and embarrassed him!” The bag boy playfully berates. “I can’t help it,” Gertrude retorts, “I miss that Ernie lad!”

~

There is a figure at the end of the hallway. Eduardo had gotten up to use the bathroom. He was about to return to the warmth of his bed, imagining that Jon is lying there waiting for him, when he saw the dark silhouette. He knows it’s Jon but…something doesn’t feel right. This figure has no defined features but it feels familiar. That’s how he knows it’s Jon.

But he can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

He slowly retreats back to his bedroom but he doesn’t take his eyes off of the figure. He feels like something bad is going to happen.

‘But it’s Jon!” He says to himself.

But something in his gut won’t let him be at ease.

He gets back in bed and shuts his eyes. He hears movement around his bed. A rapid shuffling of feet pacing back and forth. He peers through one eye and nearly screams as the figure is rapidly circling his bed. The whispering returns and Eduardo pulls the covers over his head and sings the gospel loudly.

For some reason this angers the figure and hung up pictures and painting are being thrown across the room. Eduardo hears the sounds of something being sliced and a gurgling noise before it all of a sudden stops.

Eduardo looks up and the figure is no where to be seen.

The scratching of the ouija calls him but he responds with, “FUCK YOU!” before crying himself to sleep. 

Why would Jon do that?

~

IM SORRY

The board says but Eduardo doesn’t respond. He shoves the planchette away and goes to the phone.

He calls Mark.

The line rings and with each trill, Eduardo’s heart races faster.

When Mark finally picks up, Eduardo nearly bursts.

“Hello?”

“MARK I’M SO SORRY I SHOUDN’T HAVE LEFT YOU LIKE THAT AND ALONE AT HIS FUNERAL I’M A TERRIBLE HUMAN BEING AND YOU DIDN’T DESERVE THA-“

“Who is this?” Mark doesn’t seem bothered by the other man shouting in his ear. There wasn’t a lot that bothered Mark.

“It’s…It’s Eduardo…”

He expected silence. He expected Mark to hang up that phone with a slam. He expected to be yelled out in anger and then told to die.

He didn’t expect Mark to say in joy, “Eduardo! Dear god man! Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick! I thought you had done something to yourself or worse!”

Eduardo is too stupefied to respond.

Mark continues, “We found the loveliest place! It’s a bit cramped in comparison to the old place but I’m sure there’s room for you somewhere!”

“Mark…” Eduardo remembers why he called, “…Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

“Damn right you shouldn’t have! But you’re alright and that’s all that matters! We thought something had happened to you. We had no idea how to contact you….Are you in jail again? Are you calling for me to bail you out again?” Mark had gone from relieved to offended in less than a second. One of the blonde’s many talents as Eduardo used to say.

“No!” Eduardo laughs a little, his vision blurring as the tears begin to spring up. Mark isn’t mad at him. “I’m not in jail. I’m calling because I missed you and I wanted to apologize…for leaving you…”

Marks sighs and Eduardo can feel the blonde smile, “Apology accepted.” Mark sounds like he’s been wanting to say that for a long time and Eduardo resists the urge to sob. Eduardo has to know though, “What…uhm…”

He has to finally make peace with it.

“Please tell me about Jon’s funeral.”

There is a moment of silence. Eduardo is worried that he’s offended his friend and tries to go on, “Was it nice? Did those horrible parents of his go? I should have gone! I’m so sorry to bring this up-”

“What funeral?” Mark interrupts.

Eduardo hopes he’s not ripping open repressed memories as he stutters, “J-Jon’s funeral…” He feels himself breaking down. Maybe he should hang up. Call again when he’s less emotional. When he’s ready to cope with Jon’s physical departure.

“Jon’s funeral?…Oh! Oh my god!” Mark doesn’t sound grieved though. He sounds…happy?

Eduardo’s worried that his friend is about to loose it, “ ‘Oh my God’ what? Mark? What do you mean by “oh my god’?” Eduardo is beginning to grow frantic.

Mark laughs “Jon’s alright! He survived! They were able to get him to the hospital in time! He’s okay!”

 

Everything feels like it stopped. It is not until now that Eduardo notices that the whispers had started up but they have stopped at Mark’s words.

“He’s…he’s alive?” Eduardo feels faint. What kind of sick joke is this?

“Oh! Hang on!” Mark puts down the phone and it sounds like he’s speaking to another person. That person squeals and Mark picks the phone back up, “See-I mean hear- for yourself!”

Eduardo can’t feel his body and something in his brain snaps when he hears that voice that he’s been praying to hear again for two years.

“Eduardo?”

Said man sinks to his knees as his strength give out, “J-Jon?”

“Yeah!” Jon says it so cheerfully, “I’m alright….Did you really think I was dead? That sucks. I thought we were friends!” Jon huffs and Eduardo can see Jon’s cheeks puffing out and his eyebrows knitting together and it makes Eduardo burst out laughing.

Jon isn’t bothered by the laughter though. Jon only says, “I missed that sound. The way you laugh. I love it.” before the phone, lights, and power shut off.

The storm has hit.

~

The blizzard hits and Eduardo hopes he has enough fire wood to keep him warm and enough patience to keep him from yelling. He puts fingers that shake, not with fear but with intense rage, on the planchette. He asks loud and clear, “Who are you?”

No response.

“WHO ARE YOU AND WHY DID YOU LIE TO ME?”

The planchette moves

I NEVER SAID I WAS JON

It pauses before asking

WHO IS JON

“THE LOVE OF MY LIFE YOU PIECE OF SHIT! WHO ARE YOU?”

I DIDNT HAVE THE HEART TO TELL YOU

Eduardo gets up and is about to leave when that figure returns and pushes him. The incoherent whispering picks up but Eduardo screams, “I’M NOT AFRAID OF YOU!”

The planchette moves but Eduardo doesn’t care and shouts, “NO MORE TRICKS!”

He grabs the board and planchette and tosses it into the fire. Something screams in his bedroom and along with the loud thud of something hitting the floor. It sounded like a man. The ghost blob follows Eduardo into the bedroom and sounds like it’s whimpering when Eduardo notices the red stain at the foot of his bed. It disappears right before his eyes.

He goes back into the hall and sees the figure standing at the end again. It is no longer intimidating, however. It looks the way sadness feels.

“Who are you?” Eduardo doesn’t know why but he feels like he still knows this person. Like he still loves them. Not the way he loves Jon but something is there. The ghost blob goes up to the figure and they walk out of sight.

“Wait!” Eduardo goes after them but they disappear.

A loud crash is heard from the basement.

Another harsh wind hits the windows but even if a tornado ripped the roof off, Eduardo wouldn’t notice. His eyes are fixed on the basement door. He picks up the flashlight he keeps on the sofa table, and cautiously opens the basement door.

It is absolutely dark and cold.

He turns on the flashlight and with slow steps, he makes his way down the wooden stairs. They creak each time he settles his weight on one.

The little basement window is open and snow is blowing in furiously, scattering papers and covering everything in white. He turns to see that little door in the wall, wide open. A piece of paper floats to him and presses itself against his thigh. He peels it off but stops himself from tossing it when he notices his brother’s chicken scratch. He could recognize that atrocious penmanship anywhere. He folds it and puts into his pocket.

Upon kneeling down he sees that behind that little door is neither access to the plumbing or the heating system. Nor is it the electricity. It opens to a hallway. He is careful to watch his footing as he steps down. The hallway is of normal height and lower than the basement. The walls are painted white and cracked. There is fluorescent lights but without the power, the flashlight will have to do.

Eduardo walks down the hall, his heart beating against his rib cage. His hands are starting to shake. There is a door on the other end. He stops before it and notices that there is no lock. Just a handle. The metal of it is cold against his hand as he turns it slowly. He turns it three times and confirms that it is able to open before pulling.

It is a secondary basement. There is a some kind of large, metal chest in the corner and upon further inspection, it is a fridge. On a rack nearby is half a sack of dog food and a knife with some kind of dried rust on it, wrapped in a white t-shirt that also has that same rust color. Upon further inspection, Eduardo realizes that it is blood. Suit cases are haphazardly strewn together and when Eduardo opens them, there is a set of men’s clothes and a picture of his mother, along with Ernesto’s wallet.

He opens the fridge.

And then the power comes back on and the police are called when the blizzard passes a day later. They put the body of Ernesto and his large dog in black body bags and take Eduardo down to the police station.

“I was just cleaning and…I got it to open,” Eduardo tells the police when they ask about the little door. “I thought it was just access to the plumbing,” he keeps going. He says nothing about his brother opening it for him.

Eduardo is ruled out because after fingerprints and imperfect alibis, everything pointed to their father.

Ernesto and their father got into an argument over ownership of the cabin that resulted in their father pulling out a knife and stabbing his own son 7 times. He ended the dog with 10. That was three years ago. His father made the mistake of saving the evidence and freezing the body. His father is getting life in prison. Eduardo’s grandmother fainted and was in hysterics for days.

Before leaving the cabin he calls out, “Is there a spirit in this cabin?”

There is no response because Ernesto has decided to finally rest.

He took the dog too.

Eduardo remembered the piece of paper. He reads it in broad daylight on the train to Mark and Jon’s…their new home.

Dear Eduardo,

I’m sorry I left you. I’m supposed to be your older brother but I left you with that bastard of a father. I was so selfish and you were too young to be alone like that. I want to see you again. I know it’s been so long but I hope you can forgive me. Abuelita is giving me her cabin. Dad hates that but I don’t care. I’m going to fix this place up so when we see each other, you have a nice place to stay. I hope you don’t feel offended by my gift. I remembered that you were all into that paranormal shit and when I saw it I immediately thought of you. If the ouija board freaks you out though just toss it. I won’t be offended.

You’re not allergic to dogs or anything right? You were allergic to something that was bull shit but I don’t remember what it was. I really hope it wasn’t dogs because I got one. His name’s Eddie. Please don’t be mad that I named the dog after you I just missed you and shit. Please come see him, he’s big but he’s a real sweetie.

Dad keeps trying to come around but I promise he’s not gonna be here when you come over. It’ll just be you and me again. I know that sounds creepy but I really do miss you and if you ever wanna talk again, I’m in Abuelita’s cabin from now on. Just call and I’ll pick up. Or drop by! I won’t mind. You’re always welcome here. I’m always here.

-Love Ernesto

 

The letter never even made it into an envelope.

2 days after Ernesto’s official funeral, Eduardo still can’t stop crying. 

He shares a room with Jon, who holds him tightly at night and sings that gospel to soothe him. Jon is warm and his hands are gentle as he pets Eduardo’s hair and says, “It’s okay now…I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween


End file.
